


One Winter's Day

by jlovesallfandoms



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Winterfell AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlovesallfandoms/pseuds/jlovesallfandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Arryn discovered the true parentage of Gendry Waters and sent him to Winterfell as a ward when he was only a child. There, he befriends the youngest Lady of the North, and they grow up together while kings and queens play their game of thrones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Winter's Day

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a oneshot AU if Jon Arryn was to discover Gendry's parentage way earlier. I'm simply writing this to curb my writer's block once again. Maybe one day I'll revisit this, but for now this remains as a closed oneshot. I hope you all enjoy, and soon enough I shall update my other stories I promise :)
> 
> Edited on 1/24/18

It was Arya Stark’s eighth nameday when a boy named Gendry arrived at Winterfell’s gates. She and Bran raced to the top of the watcher’s tower to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside. The pause of joviality in celebrating the young lady of Winterfell’s birth was all too curious for Arya. She climbed to the top of the ledge while Bran simply stood on his toes and peeked his eyes above the overhang. From even a distance from the watcher’s tower, Arya could feel the tense aura in the air. Her usual stoic father stopped in his steps after the gates were opened and remained frozen with his mouth ajar. It was as if all smiles died at that moment. Arya often heard her father muttering the words, _the North remembers_. Although the phrase had the ability to explain what was unfolding before her own grey eyes,  at the tender age of eight, Arya was oblivious as to what those words meant. She watched as her father rushed the boy out of the cold snow and into the castle walls.

“Who is he?” Bran asked her. She looked from her perch on the ledge to her tiny brother, with his hair far too unkempt and almost covering his own eyes.

“Let’s go find out.” Arya jumped to her brother lacking the grace of a cat, but rather with the rashness of a wolf. She was far faster than her brother, who almost tripped over his short legs in an attempt to catch up with her. By the time they reached the Great Hall, any evidence of her father or the strange boy was gone. All that she found was her sister along with Robb and Jon looking out the windows.

“Who was the boy?” Arya asked. She did not need to explain, for she knew that everyone in the castle already either heard of or saw the commotion.

“We don’t know,” Robb, although only at twelve years of age, was already growing into a man with the appearance favoring his mother, and was at the awkward years of his life where he was beginning to have the expectations to act like a lord while he still looked more like a boy.

“He looked quite handsome.” All the children in the room looked at Sansa, who was already dressed in a powder blue dress and daydreaming of knights and princes.

“Gods, why must you be so _stupid_?” Arya wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very prospect. Of course when the castle was in a time of secrecy, her sister’s only concern was the appearance of the boy.

“Why must you be so _rude_?” Sansa stamped her foot in a very unladylike manner and bristled with childish fury.

“Calm down, both of you.” Robb reprimanded both of his sisters while Jon remained quiet next to him, not daring to interrupt Sansa’s rage. Before Arya could interject that Sansa started it, the litter of children bolted up straight as the doors opened with their lord father’s entrance with guards and their lady mother trailing behind. Jon however slumped further into the shadows in the presence of the Starks’ lady mother.

“Father, won’t you tell us what’s going on?” Arya dashed into her father’s arms, all too knowing of her ability to get her way.

“The boy Gendry has come here from King’s Landing for an apprenticeship under Mikken.” Eddard Stark was a lot of things, but he was not a liar. Not one of the children believed his tales, even the youngest in the room.

“Why would anyone want to leave the South to come here?” Sansa crossed her arms at the obvious lie.

“His old master Tobho Mott thought it would be best for him to finish his apprenticeship under a different blacksmith.” Eddard shrugged, but declared the story in the way that told his children that it was the end of the discussion. “None of you are to bother him more than necessary, and are not permitted to gossip further.”

Arya nodded and looked down at her slippers. She could already feel Jon’s knowing gaze on the back of her head. If her father forbade her from doing something, of course she would interpret it as encouragement. The rest of her nameday went on as if nothing happened, but everyone still had the question of the morning’s events lingering on their minds.

 

* * *

 

It took Arya nine full days before she once again saw the boy named Gendry. She managed to escape from her needlepoint lessons and navigate her way to the forge. There, she found the boy who caused the commotion on her nameday. Although people called him a boy, he was already beyond the height of Robb, and with a broad chest and shoulders. He was almost the size of a bull. He was young, but managed to beat the burning steel into a longsword with ease. Jon seemed to be in the forge as well, talking to the boy about the advantages and disadvantages of  heavy arms and light swords. Arya clutched the rim of the walls and kept her gaze steady as she studied the boy while attempting to remain in the shadows.

“Why, isn’t it _Horseface_ spying on a _boy_?” Arya whirled around to find Jeyne Poole with her arms crossed and her face betwixt with mirth. No doubt Jeyne’s father arrived to talk business with Arya’s own father while Jeyne would galavant around with Sansa.

“Leave me alone!” Arya picked a chunk of soil and was ready to fling it at the stupid girl before she was swiftly whisked into the air with ease. Someone laced their arms under hers and carried her into the forge while Jon attempted to apologize to Jeyne for Arya’s behavior. The girl stuck her nose into the air and walked away, no doubt to tell Sansa of the incident.

“You can’t keep on picking fights with Jeyne Poole. You know it won’t end in anything good for you.” Jon reprimanded her as she was placed back on her feet. She turned around to see Gendry regarding her with curious eyes.

“All I wanted to do was come here to meet Gendry.” Arya frowned as she met the strange boy’s gaze. He didn’t seem to be as entertaining as she expected.

“I’m sorry for picking you up like that. Jon just wanted to keep you out of trouble.” The boy quickly apologized before he could say anything else.

“I could have handled it myself.”

“It did not seem that way, assuming that dirt that was in your hands was meant to hit that girl’s face.” Gendry raised an eyebrow and looked at her much like Jon did.

“Of course it wasn’t.” Arya defended herself, but could not think of a better excuse. “Even if it was, I could have handled myself. I could take Jeyne in a fight any day.”

“Most girls aren’t supposed to fight with ladies. Most girls aren’t supposed to fight at all.”

“Most girls are stupid.” Arya rolled her eyes as if Gendry was daft and could not understand her extensive logic.

Before Gendry could reply, the trio heard her septa’s shouts across Winterfell. No doubt by now Jeyne relayed the news to Sansa, who was still at needlepoint lessons (where Arya was supposed to be). Arya dashed out of the forge in record time, leaving Gendry and Jon chuckling at the wild girl.

 

* * *

 

It took several moons before Arya saw Gendry again. Ever since her last escapade, her septa kept a tighter watch on her than ever, making it near impossible to sneak off. But this was the day of Sansa Stark’s tenth nameday, and a feast was thrown in favor for Lord Stark’s beautiful eldest daughter. True enough, she was already blossoming into a beautiful girl with soft red hair and fair porcelain skin. However, no matter how beautiful she was, she still acted like an idiot according to Arya. For the event, Arya was forced into an itchy dress with rags tied along the hem. It was a piece she sewed herself, and no doubt the lack of skill showed. While Sansa was busy giggling with Jeyne Poole, Arya flung a spoonful of porridge over in her sister’s direction. Soon enough, Robb escorted his youngest sister out of the hall and into her chamber.

“Oh please, Robb, don’t make me stay here all night.” Arya begged her brother with the same expression she used with her father.

“ _My_ job was to escort you to your rooms.” Robb remained silent for a moment, contemplating the trouble he’d be in if he let Arya back outside. “But it is _your_ job to stay in your rooms.”

“You’ve done your job, now let me do mine.” Arya smiled, catching on to her brother’s compromise.

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Robb whispered before he exited her chambers to return to the festivities. With no time to waste, Arya tiptoed back into the halls of the castle and decided to use the forge as her hiding place. Only a few guards were sprinkled across the castle anyways, as most were placed outside the feast’s halls, some even joining in the feast. To her surprise, Gendry was there, working on a commission for Mikken.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” Arya leaned against the forge walls. Gendry looked up and almost jumped in surprise, too taken up in his work to be aware of another presence in the forge.

“How did you get here?” Gendry gasped. It was oddly amusing to see such a burly person somewhat frightened by Arya.

“Robb escorted me out of the feast because I flung my meal towards Sansa.” Arya shrugged as she gazed around the forge, studying the display cases of fine swords.

“ _Robb_?” Gendry’s eyebrows met in confusion. “As in _Lord_ Robb Stark, the eldest son of Eddard Stark?”

“Yes, that is my brother.” Arya’s confusion matched the boy’s, but only because of her surprise of how he didn’t catch onto her own title the first time they met.

“You’re Arya Stark.” Gendry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I didn’t… I thought you were a friend of Jon’s visiting from Winter Town. I didn’t think much of it.”

Oddly enough, Arya felt somewhat offended.

“All that talk before, I shouldn’t have said any of it… I should be calling you m’lady.”

“Do _not_ call me m’lday!” Arya stood tall and jut her chin into the air as if it made her look menacing.

“As m’lady commands.” Gendry placed down the blade he was sharpening and sloppily bowed for the girl. Fed up with the events of the night, Arya pushed him down and he fell onto the dusty ground of the forge, laughing all the while. “That wasn’t very ladylike of you.”

Arya stomped away, this time to stay in her room for good.

 

* * *

 

It was Arya’s tenth nameday when Jon told her he was leaving for the Wall. She kept herself in her chambers from dawn to dusk, refusing to speak to anyone. It was not until Jon welcomed himself into her chambers the next morning to say goodbye when she truly burst into tears. Arya would always remember that day as the first day that set events into motion, the beginning of the end. She remembered how Jon’s resolve almost broke as he listened to his sister’s mournful tears as he tried to explain his reasoning for leaving Winterfell. Now, two years later, Arya remained in the forge, tasking Gendry to sharpen the work for her. It was originally made by Mikken, but with the blacksmith’s recent passing, Gendry was now the master of the forge.

“How does it feel to be twelve?” Gendry asked her, trying to lift her spirits. Gendry was truly the only person she found solitude with, now that Jon was gone. Sansa was betrothed and set to marry Prince Joffrey as soon as she bled, and all she cared about was swooning over the letters they exchanged. Robb was busy following his father’s footsteps and making appearances in the Great Hall, learning more and more on how to be a just lord. Bran was fun enough, but Arya was not allowed anywhere near his training sessions, where he spent most of his days now that he became of age. And although the rest of her siblings fell into their own schedules, Rickon was still too young to truly bond with. Nobody knew where he was half the time anyways.

“I miss him.” Arya frowned, watching Gendry sharpen the skinny sword. “For my seventeenth nameday, will you take me to the Wall to visit him? I know you miss him too. We’d be wildings together. Jon could show us around and just imagine the view from above the Wall.”

“As if your mother would let me go anywhere with you.” Gendry laughed. The words sounded cold, but she knew he didn’t mean it in that way.

“I would be seventeen by then, practically a woman grown. She’d have to let me.” Arya sighed, dreaming of the day that her family would take her seriously. “You’d have to listen to me too.”

“As m’lady commands.”

 

* * *

 

Arya Stark was four and ten when the king’s royal party arrived at the gates of Winterfell, ready to celebrate the wedding of Sansa Stark and Joffrey Baratheon. Of course it was hardly proper for the wedding to be in the North, but King Robert argued with his wife day and night that the wedding between a Stark and a Baratheon should take place in Winterfell, where Lyanna could watch from above. When Robb told her this, Arya rolled her eyes. She did not know much of the story of her Aunt Lyanna. Her father did not speak much of her, only that Arya reminded him of his sister. It was not new information that Robert was still in love with the idea of her aunt.

For whatever reason, Gendry vanished from Winterfell as soon as word came that the king was visiting.When the royal party arrived with their posh joviality and all, she could already tell Joffrey was a right and royal prick. Her and Robb looked at each other, both sharing subtly disgusted looks as Sansa practically swooned in the presence of the prince of her dreams. When the king stood before the children of Winterfell to greet the family of the North, he stopped at Arya’s spot.

“Ned, your child is the ghost of Lyanna!” King Robert chuckled and bellowed at her. “If I didn’t know any better, I would make my eldest marry her instead.”

Sansa stared daggers in her direction.

Arya instantly hated the king.

The day before the wedding, a hunting party departed to the Wolfswood to bring food for the feast. Robb was permitted to join the party, but Arya was denied access. Still stubborn as always and determined to show her true courage, she followed the hunting party herself soon after they left. The stableboy gave her an odd look, fully aware of what she was planning to do, but all she did was give him a glare and he readied her mare to ride. She easily caught up to the party, but stayed far enough away so they would not notice her presence. She planned to kill the biggest game and return to Winterfell, finally showing her abilities to her family.

Of course the idea was irrational. Nothing about it was rational. But Jon was not there to tell her what to do. Gendry was not there to help her this time. Nobody was there anymore. Gendry abandoned her just like Jon did.

By the time she escaped her thoughts, she realized she lost track of the hunting party. Her horse was leading her further into the forest with not a soul in sight. Before she could gather her wits, she heard a low growl emit from the trees. Her eyes widened and felt fear drop in her belly. She knew what animal this was, and she knew she was alone. She was being hunted by a wolf pack.

Arya placed her hand on Needle’s pommel and began unsheathing it, but the horse was abruptly spooked by the sound of the sword. The horse was not used to riding in such fierce conditions in the first place, let alone while Arya was wielding weapons. The horse immediately whined and fled the scene, darting in the opposite direction.  Yet as far as the horse ran, the barking of the wolves followed her.

She knew she could not be too far from Winterfell, but this horse was hardly trained to outrun a pack of wolves. She hoped she was travelling in the direction of the castle, but had no idea. The flurry of the forest was far too conspicuous in the fast speed. She heard men yelling and shouting for Arya to get behind them. She tried to slow her horse down as soon as she passed the small party, but her horse was too spooked. If Arya was a lesser rider, she would have been kicked off the back of her own horse. When her horse finally calmed down enough to turn around, she could see three men on horses fighting off the wolf pack. Arya’s own horse refused to move, so she jumped off and fully unsheathed Needle from its pommel. The Old Gods and the New would strike Arya from this world if they ever found her abandoning those who helped her.

Arya ran closer to the men, only to discover that it was Gendry, Bran, and Jory Cassel. A wolf with grey fur stopped her in her path and snarled, baring its fangs. Arya shouted and sliced Needle into the wolf’s abdomen as she dodged its first attack. If Jon taught her anything, it was to stick them with the pointy end. In a fury of white snow and blood, Arya stabbed the wolf’s neck, killing the last of the pack.

“What in the Seven Hells were you _thinking_?” Gendry screamed at her. The snow was starting to pile up, with the atmosphere quickly becoming blank.

“I know what I did, I don’t need you reprimanding me.” Arya shouted in return. Her grey cloak danced with the fierce wind as strands of hair escaped her braid.

“Do you have a death wish? Why must you throw yourself at death and never listen to those who care for you?”

“Why did you leave?” Arya’s shouts remained equal to Gendry’s fury. But nothing would compare to the betrayal in Arya’s eyes. As soon as the words escaped her lips, Gendry’s expression softened and molded into pure guilt. At that point, the Jory and Bran reached the two. Bran wrapped his own cloak around Arya’s and lifted her in front of his seat on his horse. The ride back to Winterfell remained silent. Arya Stark did not speak to Gendry for weeks.

 

* * *

 

Many moons after the wedding, a raven arrived from King’s Landing asking for Ned to join the royal couple in King’s Landing. Ned was to be the Hand of the King, as Jon Arryn was found dead from a fever. When it was announced that Ned was to leave with Catelyn, Arya once again found herself in Gendry’s forge. He was well aware of her presence, but did not speak a word. She may be stubborn, but he could be just as stubborn as her at times.

Nymeria nuzzled against Arya’s leg, as if urging the friends to speak. Her father never discovered her endeavor into the Wolfswood, as Jory Cassel remained true to his word and never told a soul after they returned. When the hunting party arrived at Winterfell, they bore five direwolf pups, one for each of the Stark children. There was an extra pup, however. The pup had long fur white as snow and eyes red as blood, but he never took to any of the Stark siblings, or rather anyone in Winterfell at all. By the time he was grown enough to be stable and hunt on his own, he escaped the castle with no trail left behind.

Jory later revealed to her that Gendry never truly left. Under orders from her father, he was to remain in Winter Town during the king’s stay. While he was hunting, he happened upon Bran and Jory, who were conducting a private search for Arya. It was all too convenient to be true, but who knew anything the Gods set in place?

After long moments of silence with Arya studying Gendry’s methods of working, Gendry finally spoke up.

“Are you leaving?”

“No.” Arya replied, her gaze still locked. Gendry finally looked up from his work to look at her. “I’m staying with my brothers for now. I managed to negotiate for my father, but he made me promise that I am to join him in King’s Landing when I flower. That was his negotiation, to give me a few more years.”

“So we won’t go to the Wall after all?” Gendry’s smile was solemn. Arya’s own expression matched his. All was forgotten from when he and the rescue party saved her. The pair only had around two more years to survive, and then they both knew that all would be done.

“I don’t know, the journey from King’s Landing to the Wall seems tedious.” Arya joked and scooted closer to Gendry. “After all, you’d have to ride all the way from Winterfell to King’s Landing, and then back to the Wall with me. Could you really survive a trip like that?”

“Anything for m’lady.” Gendry shot her a wicked grin.

“I told you long ago not to call me m’lady.”

“As m’lady commands.” Gendry faked a bow but before he could rise, she pushed him down to the floor. He pulled her to the floor with him, and they wrestled, rolling across the ground.

 

* * *

 

On Arya’s six and tenth nameday, she visited the forge once again. There was no happiness in the air. They both knew what was to happen soon enough. A letter was sent from King’s Landing, reminding her of her deal.

“You could join me.” Tears threatened to spill into Arya’s grey eyes. She refused to let them escape. She could survive Jon leaving her, but she never thought she would have to survive leaving Gendry. “They probably always need good blacksmiths in King’s Landing. Don’t leave me too.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.” Gendry’s eyes somehow were as pained as hers. “You’d be married off to some lord or prince, and would give birth to little lords and ladies. A bastard from Flea Bottom doesn't fit anywhere in your life. I need a family of my own… a wife of my own. Arya, I’m far too old now to be playing these games with you.”

“ _I_ could be your family.” Arya remembered true heartache, and the first time she experienced it was when Jon left her for the Wall. This somehow felt different.

“You wouldn’t be my family.” He looked at her with his blue eyes, which she never knew were so blue until she noticed tears glossing over his scruffy beard. “You would be m’lady.”

 

* * *

 

Arya Stark fled from Winterfell on her seventeenth nameday.

All happened too fast. The week before, she woke to find her legs sticky beneath her furs, only to discover her moon's blood had arrived, sentencing her to her fate. A letter was sent to King's Landing to notify her father of her flowering and her scheduled travel to the Capital. Then a letter arrived from King’s Landing announcing that Sansa Baratheon was pregnant with the future prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and asking for the family to visit to pay their respect and pledge their allegiance to the future of the crown. Robb however sensed something was wrong when he saw that the letter was not written in Sansa's or their father's penmanship. When nobody visited King’s Landing, another came commanding Robb to leave for the South to plead for his father’s sins. Not too much time passed after that until Robb left for war with Bran, and Ned Stark was beheaded because of it. Theon returned to Winterfell, only to claim it for himself.

“Do you have everything?” Gendry whispered. Guards were posted outside her chambers, so she slyly climbed down her window herself and made her way to Rickon before meeting with Gendry in Winter Town. Candlelight illuminated his face, but there was nothing to see in the flames. They drifted since her sixteenth nameday, but all was forgotten as soon as Theon took Winterfell. 

“We must leave now, before sunrise.” Arya held Rickon’s hand, hiding in the shadows. Summer and Nymeria trailed behind, waiting for their masters to continue on the journey. Gendry nodded, and they fled Winter Town by dawn. Just as the castle was to escape her view, Arya glanced behind her, still able to see the skyline of the towers.

“Do you think we’ll ever be back?” Rickon whispered, tears in his eyes. Arya held her youngest brother closer to her.

“One day,” She promised. Gendry glanced at her with his solemn blue eyes. He understood the direness of the situation. He understood Arya was leaving her haven, her home, and knew she probably would never return. His heart broke for her.

“Where to, m’lady?” He asked her.

“To the Wall.” Arya looked to the sky and found a red comet flying in the air. She was to meet with her brother Jon, and he would know what to do. Arya and Gendry would protect Rickon on the journey, and Robb and Bran would win the war.

But she knew that nobody could ever be sure with anything while playing the games between gods and men.


End file.
